Stronger Than That
by heartstrung
Summary: "Quietly, the remaining broken shards of her heart cracked, yet her countenance remained similar to what it was before: Heartbroken, grievous, scared. She didn't break down, she was stronger than that." Perlia. Character Death.


**AN:/ **I know you'd rather I updated _Silver Bullets_, but I'm still working on that and this is what I do when I don't feel like writing that. I don't care if you like the fact that I didn't update because I am first and foremost a _one-shot_ _writer_. Yes, I do care _very much _for my fans and I _will_ add another chapter to _Silver Bullets_ – just not right this instant. Also, since we are talking about my only multi-chaptered fic, I am in need of a Beta since I do not have the patience nor talent to do it myself. I just can't read my writing after I've finished it. Now, regarding this fic, I'm not really trying to make you people cry. I actually don't get emotional when I write. At all. I'm distracted, so let's get the show on the road.

**Dedicated to** my grandfather, who passed away this July 5th on his 46th birthday in 1981, long before I was born, due to heart disease. Though I've never met you, may you rest in peace and God bless your soul. Happy belated 76th birthday. (:

**Disclaimer: **I do not own PJO. And, yet again, I don't have a witty way of putting this, so you'll have to deal with whatever sarcastic and/or blunt comment I might make in the future.

**.x.**

A silent, mild-mannered Thalia sat on a long plastic bench in the stark white room. Her face was streaked with black tears. She dabbed at her ruined makeup with a tissue, trying to keep her cool, but she couldn't when she didn't know what went on in the next room.

The sound of footsteps reverberating in the empty corridor made her glance up. Apollo cleared his throat and looked down at her with a dead serious expression on a face she was used to seeing lit up like, well, the sun. "Thalia," he began, anxiety and of something else creeping into his voice, "I-I have some grave news for you."

Thalia drew a shaky breath, twisting her lips and fiddled with the hem on her shirt, fearing for the worst. "What is it?" she managed softly, proud of how her voice didn't crack.

Something flashed in the god's eyes, but it was so brief and so small that she thought she may have imagined it. "I think you should see for yourself." He gesticulated for her to follow him into the hall. She stood on jelly-legs and clumsily walked with him, her heart beating louder with every passing second. Apollo stopped outside of room 72A and pressed down on the dull metal handle. "You ready?" he asked over the thundering of her heart. He could hear it, that she was sure. Thalia nodded numbly.

The hospital room wasn't much different than the waiting room save for a table piled with flowers and candies and cards and balloons and a variety of other gifts. But there, with the head of it pushed up against the wall, was the hospital bed.

And on top of it was Percy.

Her heart shattered like glass the instant she laid eyes upon his stilled form. "Would you like to see?" Apollo was talking about Percy, who had been sheathed in a gown and used green sheets. Once again, Thalia nodded. The god of medicine made no fancy flourish when he peeled away the bedding – he just pulled it back and dumped it on the ground.

The pale, sickly shade of Percy's formerly tanned complexion was hard to process. His skin was lighter than _hers_ and that was saying something. His lips, which were something she'd taken advantage of too many times to count, were tinged blue with death. Quietly, the remaining broken shards of her heart cracked, yet her countenance remained similar to what it was before: Heartbroken, grievous, scared. She didn't break down, she was stronger than that.

Apollo wasn't done yet, though. He undid the hero's gown and turned him over on his back, revealing something that sent the girl reeling.

Like a spider's web, the pattern was intricate, tracing obsidian lines just under Percy's skin, beginning at the starburst that surrounded the small of his back – his Achilles' heel. As Thalia stared horrified at what could have been a tattoo under any other circumstance, she could see the web of lines _growing_, as if a spider really was weaving it.

She choked back a sob and attempted to force to the thick knot in her throat. Tears streamed down her face, rivulets of mascara and eyeliner painting her cheeks in a watered down grey, her tissue long forgotten on the sterile tile floor.

Tentatively, she reached out for her lover, her porcelain hand brushing against his ashen face. He looked so peaceful, she decided. He deserved peace, especially after what he's been through. If she hadn't known better, Thalia would've thought Percy was sleeping. He could have been passed out on the couch back in their apartment. She cupped his face and cradled it in her arms and wiped at the saltiness leaking from her eyes. His face had yet to be touched by the black poison running through his veins.

"Percy," she sniffled, the knot rising in her throat again. Thalia pressed her lips to his cold ones and hoped for the near-impossible possibility that there might be some kind of response from him. Honestly, she could really care less if the scene ended up _Romeo & Juliet_-esque where the poison was transferred from her love's mouth to hers. Maybe then they could be together in Elysium.

Finally did Thalia look up from his face and took note of Apollo's absence. He must've left soon after he removed Percy's clothing. She trailed fingers across him, smiling to herself as she recalled some of the more significant memories of their time together. Not that they all weren't significant, it was only the ones that sparked stronger reminiscing. At each of these points on his body she placed a kiss. There was nobody there to tell her to do differently.

When she fell back into the bedside chair, she kept her hand in his hair. It wasn't that she didn't want to let go, it was that she wanted to remind herself that this was _real_. Thalia did not desire to wake up in the morning to an empty flat thinking she'd been dreaming and that not have to handle the harsh reality of his death when she realised it wasn't. And so she sat there, fingers coiled in raven locks and experiences playing like slideshows behind her eyes.

Time felt like molasses, but in actuality it passed in record time, and before she knew it, the hospital employees were leaving and the night shift was arriving. She took this as her cue to leave and Thalia left the room, glancing back in the doorway. A nurse held the door open for her and she could see pity in the depths of her hazel eyes. Thalia was positive she looked terrible, but flashed the lady a small smile and thanked her.

Summer nights are entirely too nice, Thalia told herself. A little rain could do. Like magic, it began to rain, hiding Thalia's tears in the downpour. She'd have to thank her father later.

Upon reaching the apartment building, she opted for the stairs rather than the elevator. Her heels clicked against the dull metal stairs that lead to her floor. Dishevelled and grief-stricken, she didn't care about the agitated yells of the other tenants who'd heard the obnoxious noises made by her shoes, she just threw herself inside the door, slamming it behind her, and slumping against it. She propped her knees up and rested her head on them. Her lengthy arms wrapped around her calves and Thalia sobbed as all her repressed emotions were set loose in the darkness of an apartment that was now tainted with a lonely silence.

**.x.**

**AN:/ **Reviews are love. Yay for random titles.


End file.
